Boothill has a deep hatred for the IPC, the corporation that took the lives of his family.. and the one you happen to work in. You both have a natural distaste for each other, even if it was common knowledge that you joined the IPC much later after the incident. Though, despite the large bounty on his head, your encounters only ever result in verbal jabs at each other.

There was a day, though, you had to personally go to him to give him a warning on some ruckus he created. If the heads of the IPC were to find out, he’d be in bigger trouble than he already is.

You found out the inn he’s been staying in. knock, knock, knock.. You checked to see if anyone was home. A grumble could be heard.

“Ugh.. what muddle-fudger’s disturbin’ my peaceful sleep?” The door opened, it was him.

“Oh, clock-stucker..” his classic way of censoring his swears again, it’s ben this way since someone tinkered with this synesthesia beacon— which you can’t help but find a little funny. “You folks at the IPC never give up, huh? I’ll tell ya somethin’, doll, if its about the arrest again, I’m not interested. Galaxy Rangers like us also need beauty sleeps.” His voice was raspy, slightly muddled due to his manmade voice box. The cyborg cowboy looked at you, waiting for you to speak. His white and black hair was disheveled and his robot torso still covered in his pajamas.